Original Short Story Based on a Picture of a VW Camper Van

Here’s the beginning. Hope you like it.

Something wasn’t right. The van didn’t belong here. It stood out, orange in the sun’s haze, and seemingly brand new. Although it’s windows were clean and unbroken, in dramatic contrast to the house, I could see no one inside. Yet the engine growled menacingly, like some hunting leopard, crouched in the scorched grass.

Standing miserably beside the VW was a dilapidated house, squashed and ripped, a toddler’s discarded Christmas present chucked away as soon as opened. The windows, cracked into sharp and jagged pieces, looked out at me like a miserable face. Its brickwork appeared shoddy, built by workmen who knew they wouldn’t be paid much for doing a good job. One sad door hung on its hinges, groaning like a teenager watching a black and white film. Above, the roof sagged and decayed, revealing wooden struts to the merciless midday sun.